


Bleeding Love

by 74days



Series: Meet-Cute AU's [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: ER visits, First Meetings, Hospitals, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Meet-Cute, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Nurse Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve really couldn't have just let those guys take advantage of those girls, right?<br/>-<br/>Bucky really couldn't let that asshole say those things about Dottie, right?<br/>-<br/>A Story about how two beat-up morons find each other in the ER.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Love

The thing is: Steve’s a nurse. He knows, he  ** _knows_** , that the ringing in his ears isn’t a good sign, or that the pain in his ribs when he breathes really isn’t healthy, but…

But those guys had it coming. That girl was obviously drunk, and those guys were taking advantage of that. Steve was just doing what any good person should do – stepping in and making sure that they didn’t get her alone.

He was trying to tell that to Sam, who was cursing him a blue streak and trying to haul his not-inconsiderable bulk towards the doors of the ER, but Sam wasn’t listening. Probably because Sam had been the guy he called after those guys (and the  ** _friends_**  of those guys) took exception to Steve ‘ruining’ their night.

Even with his muscles and his height and his morning runs – Steve Rogers was not superhuman, and 6 guys jumping him in some dingy alley was never going to end well.

“You’d have done the same!” He argued (because he’d been arguing with Sam the whole trip and it was practically expected for Steve to put up  ** _some_**  resistance about going into the ER as a patient) once again. “You would’ve!”

“Yeah, I probably would have.” Sam sighed, giving Steve a gentle shove towards the automatic doors that really shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. “But I never claimed to be the smart one in this friendship.”

They both blinked a little from the bright lights as they entered the ER waiting area, and Steve’s head swum dangerously at the difference between the dark outside and the bright white all around him. “Your mom is going to knife me in my sleep, Steve.” Sam pointed out. “You know she terrifies me.”

Steve snorted (which hurt), because his mom was the best, most kindest mom in the whole world, and never hurt a fly. “Yeah, that’s cause she’s  ** _your_**  mom.” Sam said, which obviously meant that Steve wasn’t thinking but talking, “But normal people see tiny Mrs Rogers, with her little blond hair, and her lovely blue eyes, and her cute Irish accent – and are totally not fooled. That woman will  ** _shank_**  me.”

Steve snorted again, because his mom was 5 foot and a prayer high, she didn’t even come up to Sams  ** _chin_**. It didn’t make sense that Sam would be worried. His mom was an  ** _angel_**.

“And you know in the bible, Steve, angels were the ones who did the killing and the fighting, right?” Sam pointed out. “She’s gonna give me the Look, Steve.  ** _The Look_**.” He paused in his attempts to get Steve towards the reception. “The Look that says, you were supposed to be looking out for my boy, and he’s been hurt. Again.” He shuddered. “Steve, you’re a huge guy. Huge.  ** _Massive_**. Can you just not... get me into trouble with your mom for like… a week? Just one week?”

“You’d have done the same!”

“Yeah, but I’d have called you for back-up after! Not –  ** _not_** , Steve – when I was lying in a pool of my own vomit and blood.”

* * *

 

“You are pathetic.”

“Thanks, Nat. I really appreciate that.”

“If you bleed on my car, I’m going to gut you like a fish.”

“I will not bleed on your car.” Bucky groaned, head tipped back so that he wouldn’t actually bleed all over her car. He didn’t think she’d kill him, but he did know that she gave the worst Chinese Burn in New York and his tattoo had just started to scab over. He couldn’t risk it.

“You know you’re an idiot.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that.” He sighed, which hurt. Everything hurt, so that wasn’t weird in itself. Natasha was driving fairly sedately, which was worth noting though, because she was a bit of a speed demon, taking corners too fast and breaking sharp. It wasn’t unsafe (he’d never get in the car with her if he felt unsafe) but her job required serious precision driving and he guessed it was hard to drive like a regular person after that. The fact that she was taking things relatively smoothly meant that she didn’t want to jostle him more, or that she didn’t trust him not to snort blood over the interior of her car if she hit the brakes too fast. He figured it was about 50/50, knowing Natasha.

“I did.” She agreed. “I’m just pointing it out again because it needs repeating. You utter урод.” She glanced over at him, and he knew that she was holding back while he was actively bleeding. She was gonna kick his ass once he’d been patched up.

“You’d have done the same!”

“I’m a fully combat trained professional and you’re a mechanic!” She snapped. “The outcome of me ‘doing the same’ doesn’t result in me bleeding on other peoples property.”

“Don’t say mechanic like it’s a cuss word.” Buck grumbled. “I work my ass off.”

“Do  ** _not_**  try to turn this into a different argument, James.” She said, voice flat. “Brock Rumlow is a giant мудак, but it’s not your job to point that out.”

“He’s trying to pin this shit on me!” Bucky burst out, because it wasn’t fucking fair – he worked his ass off every day and went home with a smaller paycheck than he deserved, to an apartment that had more drafts than rodents, and never enough time to hang out with his friends.  When parts (not even expensive parts) started going missing, he’d brought it up with his boss. And now money was missing from the safe, and Brock had the fucking gall to tell the boss that he thought Bucky was the one who took it.

“Peirce knows you didn’t steal it.” She pointed out, which was true. The reason it was true was because Bucky had overheard Peirce tell Brock that Bucky  ** _didn’t have the imagination_**  to steal the cash. Which was why he was pissed – and Brock acting like a jerk to Dottie, who’d been training under Bucky for a couple of years and was good at her job,  ** _damnit_** , was the last straw.

Bucky snapped, and despite not being a little guy (lifting out engines and jacking up cars kept him in better shape than those gym-bound douchebags) he wasn’t expecting Brocks posse of mini-jerks to join in. Dottie (smart cookie, one of the best he’d trained) had called Peirce and then Natasha – so Bucky wasn’t quite dead when the boss showed his face and the fight dissolved.

“I’m gonna get fired.” He moaned, and (as expected) he heard:

“Good. I’ve been telling you forever that you need to get out of Red Room.”

“It’s called Hydra now.” He pointed out, because he was a little shit who never could keep his mouth shut. “They re-branded the garage, remember?”

“Shut up, James.” She said, turning the car into the packed parking lot. “Shield is hiring.” She pointed out, not for the first time. “And Stark too – Tony’s been ‘advised’ by Potts to cut back on the time he spends in the garage if he wants to keep his balls attached to his body.”

“She wigs me out.”

“She’s a close personal friend of mine.”

“Which wigs me out  ** _more_**.” Bucky countered. “Man, I’d be working in constant fear you’d show up and garrotte me with a timing belt.”

“We’re here.” She said, putting the car into pack after some very impressive parking. “Do  ** _not_**  bleed on the… dammit, James!”

* * *

 

Steve was sitting in the waiting room with a couple of bits of gauze stuck up his nose and the ER nurse was Sharon Carter (who he’d dated once before he’d realised that he was gay) and she was throwing him highly amused glances whenever he caught her eye. He  ** _hated_**  being a patient. He wasn’t good at it. Sam was outside, talking on the phone to Steve mom, who would kill both of them if she heard about Steve being admitted through the gossip vine. The good thing was, working in the hospital and being the son of the Sarah Rogers – who was the charge nurse for the ER and had been for nearly 10 years – meant that Steve wasn’t going to have to wait too long to be seen. The bad news was, his mom always found out when Steve got admitted within 10 seconds of Steve walking through the door, because gossip travels fast. Sam was a good guy, and he was making sure she heard it from him first.

He was trying to slouch further into the hard plastic chair when a redheaded woman stormed into the waiting area and walked up to the desk like she owned the place. She didn’t look like she was hurt, and a few seconds later a rather bloody guy trailed in through the doors after her. The redheaded woman was already talking to the nurse on the desk, and filling out the paperwork by the time the man slumped into the empty chair beside Steve. His nose was probably broken, going on the blood – which had obviously not stopped bleeding. He had one eye swollen shut and a few dark bruises already forming on his jaw, and for a moment, Steve totally judged him.

Then he remembered that he too was sitting in the waiting room with one eye swollen shut and gauze stuck up his nose, with a possible cracked rib and a boot shaped bruise forming on his back. He was in no position to judge.

“Hi.” He said, feeling like he should at least share a commiserating glance with the utterly miserable looking man beside him. “Rough day?”

The guy turned (which looked painful, going on the wince) and gave him a quick once over. “Bout as bad as yours.” He said, and then grinned. There was blood on his teeth.

(That should not have been attractive)

(It really was though).

* * *

 

Oh god, Bucky looked like he’d gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and lost every one of them, and a literal Adonis was sitting looking at him with a little half smile and Bucky was so ready to crawl under the chair. He was still wearing his Hydra jumpsuit, a black overall with a weird looking octopus on the back. Bucky hadn’t quite understood the mythology – cause an octopus was the exact opposite of a Hydra (more legs, less heads) but he wore what he was told. Now he was wishing he’d taken the time to take it off. His jeans and t-shirt weren’t exactly his best clothes, but they were a helluva lot more flattering than the overalls.

It wasn’t like the guy was in the best shape either – his eye swollen shut and his nose packed with gauze, and when he smiled there was a little bit of blood on his teeth and Bucky wasn’t even sure why he found that hot, but he  ** _really_**  did.

Coupled with some insanely long eyelashes and a checked shirt that looked like it was painted on (pushed up to his forearms, Buckys kryptonite) and a pair of dark jeans that were hugging thighs he wouldn’t mind getting to know better…

Bucky was so screwed. “Bout as bad as yours.” He replied, for lack of anything better to say. The responding grin was… cute. Cute. Bucky would have dealt with hot, or sexy, but cute?  ** _God_**. The guy looked like he could bench press a truck and grinned like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar and Bucky was still bleeding. “Guy at my work had an issue with one of my female apprentices.” He found himself explaining. Which he didn’t have to, because he didn’t know this guy from…. Oh, and there was that smile again.

Bucky kinda  ** _really_**  liked that smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… there were other things, you know, but that was the last straw.” Out of the corner of his eye he could still see Natasha filling in forms, but he knew she’d have noticed him talking to the guy beside him. The fact she hadn’t come over yet meant that she was still either furious he’d gotten blood on her car or she was doing him a solid by staying out of the way. “I’m Bucky.” He said, “Uh, I don’t normally start fights.”

The guy grinned again and looked down at his clothes, which were dirty and gross and still looked better than the jumpsuit Bucky was wearing. “Steve. I was… I got into a barfight.” He paused, and Bucky tried to think what the hell kind of idiot would go up against a guy built like a Greek god. “A couple of guys were hassling this girl and… well – there were more of them than I was expecting.” He paused, and nodded his head towards the doors where Bucky could see a man talking on the phone, looking like he was apologising. “Sam drove me here.”

Bucky wondered if Sam was the boyfriend. “Natasha brought me.” He paused. “She’s gonna kill me, I bled on her car.”

“Oh,” Steve said, looking over at where Natasha was still filling out the forms. No way on earth it was taking her that long. She was obviously aware that tall, blond and cute as hell was the kind of guy Bucky might want to get to know better. He’d have to buy her something  ** _really_**  expensive. Something really expensive  ** _and_**  get her car cleaned professionally. “You really shouldn’t bleed on your girlfriends car though. Bad manners.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Bucky said, waaaaaay too fast. “Uh, she’s… she used to work with me, and now she’s making big bucks and I’m still stuck in the same crappy garage.” He paused. “Uh, I take it Sam back there is your…?”

“Friend. Best friend. Just friends. I mean…” Steve said, just as quickly. “Not that I mean  ** _just_**  friends, like being friends isn’t awesome, cause he’s an awesome friend, but it’s not… uh, we’re not… he’s straight and… I’m single.” For a moment Bucky was sure that Steve was actually going to melt, his face was burning so hard. “We’re friends.”

“Oh, cool.” Bucky said, which was a few steps removed from punching the air in victory, which was what he wanted to do. “Hey, after this do you wanna-”

“Steve?” A nurse called out. “Dr Banner can see you now.”

* * *

 

Bucky got painkillers.  ** _Good_**  painkillers, and orders not to go back to work for a few days because they would make him drowsy as hell. Peirce hadn’t been happy with that news at all, threatening to fire him on the spot if he didn’t show up to work the next day.

“James, you are a great asset, but all assets can be replaced. If you don’t show up and do your job, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, Peirce obviously waiting for this to sink in. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for you to be missing work right now, especially when you’re under investigation for the stolen money.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Bucky burst out, which hurt his… well, hurt everything, really. “You know I didn’t take that cash, fuck, it was me who told you about the stolen stuff.”

“Still.” Pierce said. He had one of those voices that just… remained calm, smooth and unruffled, and sometimes (like right at that particular moment) Bucky wanted to smash his face in. “It doesn’t look good.”

“You know what?” Bucky managed, “I’ll come in tomorrow, but if I accidentally drop a car on Rumlow because I’m off my face on pills, it’ll be  ** _your_**  insurance that pays, not me.”

There was a few moments of silence on the other end, and then… “Take the weekend, James. We can discuss this further when you’ve cooled down.”

He managed to resist the urge to throw his phone across the room because he really couldn’t afford a new one, and opted instead for just glaring at the screen. Because this just resulted in him looking at his own face reflected off the black glass surface, it wasn’t very helpful.

His face was a mess. Fuck Hydra, and Pierce in particular. Bucky had been working there for too long, trained some of the best mechanics in New York (Natasha had been one of his, a long time ago before she got into her current line of work, and Dottie too) and he got treated like some kind of fucking… robot. Go in, work, go home. Swiping a finger across the screen, he pulled up his contact list and didn’t think twice about leaving a message on Natashas answering machine.

“If a guy was looking to update his resume, could he put ‘quit his job in a rage’ down as his reason for leaving?”

* * *

 

Steve took four days off work (he didn’t want to, but he was pretty sure that if he showed his face in the ward he’d be frogmarched back down to the parking lot) and by the time he got back, half of his patients were gone. Which was… good, you know? They got better and went home, but Steve would have liked to been there to say goodbye and wish them well.

“You get too attached to the kids.” Dr Fitz said. He had glitter under one eye and didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed to say this while making a ‘good luck’ card out of construction paper and glue. Every kid who came through the ward loved Dr Fitz, and Dr Simmons – they were the youngest Doctors in the whole hospital  ** _and_**  the most popular. When they’d first started it was expected that they’d have huge egos and the nurses would be running interference between them, but it turned out they’d been friends forever and didn’t see the kids ward as a stepping stone to better things. “Anyway, Gemma made sure all of them got a nice big hug and one of the sugar free lollypops you keep under the desk.”

“Lollypops.” Steve repeated, in his best British accent, and got a scrap of balled up paper thrown at him for his trouble. “Shouldn’t you be doing something… I dunno… like saving lives or something?”

“I’m on my break.” The young doctor countered. “Anyway, if I were you I’d keep out of Gemmas way, she’s not happy you got into another fight.”

“You’d have done the same!” Steve repeated for what felt like the millionth time. He’d had to deal with his mom once he’d been given the all clear from Dr Banner, although Sam had been in a  ** _fantastic_**  mood on the drive back to his apartment.

“Unlike you,” Fitz said, screwing up his face in concentration as he finished applying the glue and carefully sprinkled the glitter over the card. “I know that starting a bar fight is probably the best way to get me killed.”

Steve rolled his eyes and grinned. It was probably true, the young doctor was a genius, not an athlete. Pulling off his coat and checking his phone one more time before his shift started, he noticed a text from Sam, who worked in the Xray department.

**_SamW:_ ** _Need a wingman Friday at Commandoes. dO NOT let me down._

_**SteveR:** Drinks are on you._

* * *

 

Natasha managed to get a date while Bucky was bleeding over the ER doctor, and had insisted that he show up to keep her company while he arrived. Normally Bucky would put up at least a token fight, but she’d pretty much re-written his resume and had only said “I told you so,” once, so Bucky would have had a hard neck trying to guilt her for anything for at least a month or two. So he was dressed up in his nice jeans (the black ones that made his legs look awesome) his ‘lucky’ moss green shirt and navy pea coat. He’d even had his hair trimmed for the interviews that he’d been going through – so his longer hair was swept back and styled pretty neatly, rather than just thrown back in whatever hair tie he could find on the floor of his apartment.

He used to love going out, but since he’d been with Red Room (now Hydra) he just never seemed to have the time. It was actually pretty nice to get dressed up a little, break out the nice aftershave and head to a pretty tame bar.

Commandoes was a popular place to start a night. The old fashioned feel was popular with old timers and young people, and the mix meant that you could easily spend the night with a couple of beers and a plate of hot wings without having to yell to be heard. He didn’t think it was the kind of place Natasha would have liked – she was weirdly fond of the whole movie and a meal first date, something Bucky hadn’t tried since high school.

She was wearing a pair of jeans too – tight black to show off her killer figure – and her leather jacket. She didn’t look like she was going on a date at all, she looked more like she was going to kill a man for selling government secrets, and he told her as much.

“Maybe I am.” She shrugged as she walked through the bar. No one really paid them much attention despite the bar being fairly quiet. “There he is.” Natasha said, sounding… well, not like the kind of person who needed a wingman for a date at all. “He’s brought his friend too.” She pointed out, and Bucky nearly tripped over his feet.

‘His friend’ was Steve. Steve from the hospital Steve. Steve who didn’t even have a shadow of a bruise from the week before. Steve who was wearing a pair of navy jeans and a warm looking red shirt rolled up his forearms. Steve who was looking at Bucky with a smile on his face that could probably put the sun to shame it was so bright.

“Oh, look at that, your best friend totally set you up with that guy you liked.” Natasha mumbled under her breath, before they hit the table.

“Bucky!” Steve grinned, and Bucky could totally feel the smile on his own face threatening to split his head in half. “Uh, I’m Steve, from the hospital?”

“Yeah, no I remember.” Bucky nodded, maybe too fast. “This must be Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam – uh, this is Bucky. From the hospital. You know that.” He tacked on the end. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Sam said, deadpan.

“Right, well – we’ve got a movie to catch, so you two losers can gaze at each other for a bit.” Natasha said, after a too long pause that (maybe) just consisted of Bucky gazing at Steve like he hung the moon, causing both men to blush a little.

* * *

 

The fact that Sam was obviously the very best friend on the whole of the earth was never more apparent when he nodded, slipped out of the booth they were sharing, and shot him a jaunty salute. “Can’t keep the lady waiting.” He said, and left.

“I was gonna ask for your number.” Bucky said, looking a little sheepish. “But you got seen by the Doc before I could.”

Steve felt like he was going to burst. “I could buy you a drink?” He managed, aware that his grin made his voice a little too high pitched. “To, uh, make up for that?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky agreed, pulling off his jacket. His green coloured shirt made his eyes look ever bluer, which was just… god he was  ** _gorgeous_**.

* * *

 

They had a couple of beers and shared a plate of wings that were so hot Bucky was pretty sure he’d killed off most of his taste buds, but he wasn’t going to let Steve and his shit eating grin win. “Too hot?” He’d teased, grabbing yet another spicy wing.

“Anything you can dish out, I can take.” Bucky shot back, and made Steve choke a little when he winked.

“Yeah, well… I never back down from a challenge.” Steve said, once he’d taken a swig of his beer. “And I’m more than happy to take whatever you give.”

Which…  ** _oh, god_**.

* * *

 

They dated. They dated each other so hard that they put other people who dated to shame. Bucky sent flowers to the ward where Steve worked and Steve picked him up from Starks stupidly hi-tech (and totally freaking awesome) garage on his fucking  ** _motorbike_**. Because Steve had a  ** _motorbike_**  and Bucky was just about done with the ways that Steve constantly managed to up his hotness levels pretty much every day.

They went to the zoo, and art galleries that Bucky hadn’t even known existed – they sat through jazz bands and stand-up routines and had dinner in nice places and some not so nice places. Steve managed to charm pretty much everyone in Buckys life, and Bucky was pretty sure that he was Sarah Rogers second favourite person in the world when he showed up with a busted nose at her front door.

“What happened to you?” She said, pulling them both through the door, and this was the exact opposite to the way Bucky wanted to meet Steve’s sainted mother. Sam had warned him that Sarah Rogers was not only the most important person in Steve’s entire life, but she was also a complete terror when she needed to be. He was not to be fooled by her softness.

“He stood in between me and a fist.” Steve explained, which earned him a stern look from his mom and a soft look for Bucky.

“You need to quit getting’ into fights.” Bucky groused, because he was wearing a really nice navy shirt that almost matched his eyes to make a good impression and he was going to bleed all over it. “Your mom is gonna think I’m a bad influence.”

“Tisk!” Was the only reply that she made, pulling him through to the kitchen where a first aid kit that would have put some ER’s to shame magically appeared. “You know, this boy has been giving me wrinkles since he was born.” She scolded as she mopped up the blood from Buckys face.

“I don’t think so,” Bucky countered, “You don’t look a day over 27.” And Bucky was pretty sure that her blush was genuine as she cleaned him up expertly, despite her arguments that flattery would get him nowhere.

* * *

 

Later, after diner was over and Bucky was standing in the hallway, pulling on his coat, his mom pulled Steve aside. “Oh, he’s lovely.” She murmured, brushing off some invisible lint from his shoulder. She had to stand up on her toes to do it, and Steve found himself blushing just a little.

“Yeah.” He whispered.  “He  ** _really_**  is.”

* * *

 

“I think my mom loves you more than she loves me.” Steve was saying, lounging on the couch they’d bought together, in the flat they rented together, in the area they’d chosen together. Bucky was looking at the gift voucher for a ‘sports massage’ at a fairly exclusive spa in the city that had been carefully slotted into his birthday card. He’d also been given a massive tin of sugar cookies that Bucky was debating taking them to work to save them from Steve who couldn’t just eat one. The issue with that was that Stark had stolen one once and was now pestering him constantly to bring in more.

“Yeah, she does.” Bucky agreed, thinking just how great it would be to get some of the tension worked out of his back and shoulders. He’d been complaining about it a few days ago, and Sarah had obviously thought her gift through. “She loves me best.”

“I love you best.” Steve replied, nudging him in the ribs. “Don’t you forget that.”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. He’d been used to having his birthdays all but forgotten – Natasha got him a card a year of Netflix and HBO, which was awesome – but Stark had been pretty insistent that a party was required. So Bucky was trying to get over a hangover while Steve (who’d been so drunk Bucky had to undress him in a particularly non-sexy way) didn’t even have so much as a headache. His choice of a cure was to lounge on the couch and watch TV, and Steve had happily obliged, snuggling Bucky into his body and generally spoiling him by running back and forth to the kitchen for whatever Bucky asked for all day. It was late now though, and although Bucky really wanted a drink, he wanted Steve to keep still and not move. Ever.

“I’m not sure I love you more than her, man.” He said, snuggling deeper into the crook of Steve’s arm. “Cookies.” He pointed out, a little sleepily. “Like, a whole  ** _tin_**  of them.”

“True.”

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me again.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”“Yeah.” Bucky agreed, letting his eyes close. “I love you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the super long wait. I know the breaks in between these are getting longer and I'm not really happy about it, but RL has been mad and recently, so gotta take care of that first!  
> So here goes.  
> The prompt was: Met in the ER and are trading stories.
> 
> Hope you like it, let me know!


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